Hipchecking in

By Chris

How much do I care?

Today is D-Day for the Sabres when it comes to re-signing the captains so of course I'll go to any means to make sure I'm wired to the latest news. Or in this case wireless. I've been in beautiful Orlando for the last week, away from what I'm sure has been the insanity of the local Buffalo sports scene. Soup has been keeping me updated on some of the contract talk (including the 5-year $25 million deal Briere recently turned down) but it's not the same.

So where am I? Pool-side at the resort in 90 degree weather, typing on my dad's laprop. That's how much it means.

The break has been nice, but it's painful to not be connected all the time during one of the most crucial weeks in Sabres history. If neither is re-signed by midnight, it looks like we can kiss them both good-bye.

I'll be on the road, heading back home tomorrow morning. But at the same time tomorrow morning, both Chris Drury and Daniel Briere may very well be on the road to their new homes, wherever they may be.

The Case for Chris Drury

Who could have guessed the first day in July has become one of the most important in recent franchise history?

And yet here we are, a few dozen hours before that fateful Sunday, with nothing yet decided. Sure, we've seen articles such as this and this, but nothing yet is certain. As fans we have no real part in this, which is what makes free agency both menacing and strangely enticing. The prospect of picking up a big name comes with the potential to lose one, or in our case, two.

Here is what I do know right now, and have known since February 22nd, 2007. I want Chris Drury on my team.

Of course, there is very little logic in my belief. Sure, people will show highlights of the Drury and Briere's clutch playoff goals (Game 5 ECS, Game 2 ECF, respectively) , and of course people are going to look at Drury's uncanny ability to score big goals when it counts, or Danny's career high points production. Yet when it comes to who I want leading my team, I am going solely on personal feelings, all of which stem from that fateful Thursday night in February.

You all know the story. Drury lets a shot go gliding in near the hashmarks, Neil comes across at full speed. Boom. Helmet off. Blood. Mayhem. Hillarity ensues with Marty Biron.

But lost in all that, both in the media and the general fanbase, is what really happened on that ice. The Sabres were in a stretch in which they had lost five players to injury in the last five games. Each time the injurys hit hard, but none was as shocking as when Dru went down. Trust me, I was there.

I remember following the shot and seraching for a rebound, and the next thing I knew Drury was on the ground in a heap and Drew Stafford was flipping out on Chris Neil. Or course, the kid got his lunch handed to him, but that moment signalized so much to me in hindsight. In one swift decision Drew Stafford went from a kid grinning ear to ear after getting his first NHL goal into a hockey player willing to do anything to stick up for his captain. Drew Stafford became a man that night.

We all did, really. Everyone in that building responded to that hit. Every player on that team knew who went down, and acted accordingly. It wasn't about the fight, it wasn't about Ray Emery, it was about that group of men deciding that enough was enough, and sticking up for their captain.

Our captain. That was all I kept thinking. That was our captain. Everyone was reapeating those four words over and over, trying to make sense out of the wave of emotions that followed. As a fanbase, we collectively lost our minds after that. Once you get even a taste of that passion, you're hooked. Without Chris Neil, there would have not been 10,000 people outside HSBC Arena come June.

But therein lies the difference between Danny Briere and Chris Drury for me. When Danny was cheapshotted by Alexander Ovechkin on December 2nd, we cried foul. But I wasn't thinking "That's our captain," I was thinking "That's Danny Briere." The same statement can be said for any other player on the laundry list of injuries throughout the season. "That's Max", or "That's Goose."

The feeling of shock when Drury went down was completely different from anything I've felt as a fan in some time. The same can be said for when he came back to action against Colorado. The sense of pride in the "C", that single representative of your team; it's something that hasn't been felt here in Buffalo for some time. (No offense to any Captains of the Month)

Now maybe it's a personal opinion. There are probably dozens of people who feel the same way about Danny Briere, and at least a few that can be more eloquent that I. But I felt that building swell with pride when the boys came back swinging, and I know what was going through everyone's mind when it was all said and done.

You always defend your captain. Even after the first of the month.

See Me After Class

by Rich


As you might have noticed, we here at the Roost have been using Facebook to profile the Sabres' 2007 draftees over the past week (alright, by we I mean Ryan; I did help in the search for said profiles though, so that should count for something). Anyhow, I suppose you could make the case that our profiles didn't probe all that deeply into the players' personal lives, which is somewhat true. Our goal, though, was simply to provide a little background on the guys we're hoping will be the future of our franchise (While making sure their Interests section didn't include red flags like "Taking my dog to Mike Vick's house" or "going to Vegas with Pete Rose"). It certainly isn't our aim to dig through an 18-year old's pictures and groups on Facebook, looking for something sufficiently controversial to spread across the internet. These guys are on our team, or at least will be. Personally, I'd rather not send any of these kids into an A-Rod-like media-induced coma before they're even Amerks, much less Sabres.


That being said, anyone who has an account with Facebook will recognize this universal truth: Whatever you're looking for, you will get sidetracked somehow, and you will find something strange, rediculous, or stupid. We found plenty of all three in our search, but there was one group in particular that absolutely floored me. I've seen plenty of groups that disparage my teams, and that's cool. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, no matter how wrong it is. What bothers me is when someone tries and fails to insult (in this instance) the Sabres. When you create a group about your hatred for a team...it should inspire anger in that team's fans, not pity.


With that in mind, I'd like to share this hideous abortion of a Facebook group with you. We did not edit its content at all for comedic effect. The only thing I did was offer some "helpful hints" for next time. Remember, these grades aren't to hurt you, just to show you what you need to do better. By the way, Caps management - you may want to try a little harder with your marketing campaigns, because clearly these poor souls believe that their local rivals for the "Sabers" are the Redskins.

Draft Profile: Corey Tropp

"I play hockey, I'm easy to get along with, and I like having a good time."- Corey Tropp's "About Me"

After seeing that, do you really have any other questions? Of course you do, otherwise we wouldn't be looking at an 18 year old's Facebook profile. Our 4th Facebook friend is Corey Tropp, the 5'11" right winger from Grosse Pointe, Michigan. (89th overall)

To start off, there is once again an utter lack of things listed as interests. If you switch in "snowboarding" for "easy to get along with" from his About Me you have his Activities; and if you drop "having a good time" for "boating" you reveal his Interests.

Seriously, there doesn't seem to be much to him aside from playing hockey. He lists his musical interests as "pretty much anything," which is code for "nothing interesting." I mean, if you are making your profile and can't come up with a single artist you enjoy, you just aren't trying hard enough.

His groups do show he has a pulse, however. He is a big Red Wings fan, and is active in politics. "Shjon Podein for President" shows he has laughed at least once in his life, and doesn't necessarily believe skating backwards is necessary to succeed. Also, "Hockey players wheel the hottest broads" tends to speak for itself.

Also interesting was a group supporting research for juvenile diabetes. This disease awareness seems to be a recurring theme in the draft class. These kids should be great with charity benefits when the time comes. Bonus points for Darcy.

Overall Corey seems like an okay guy. There has to be more hiding behind his whitewash profile. Maybe some time at Michigan State will loosen him up a bit. We'll keep you posted.

And yes, that's Corey holding the stick. We're not sure if he's knighting the kid, or forcing him to do proper push ups. Either way, it has to bode well for his leadership abilities...

Vinny Damphousse Wants to Pamper You

When we heard Vincent Damphousse was leaving his post at the NHL Players Association, we figured there was a reason behind it. Who knew it would be so breathtaking.

That's right, Vinny has gone from "not now, I've got hockey" to "not now, I've got exfoliation." Either that is the worst excuse for quitting I've ever heard, or he really, really likes his spa.

This is the first time I've ever seen a retired hockey player being this creative with his entrepreneurial options. Sure, some players hang up the skates and start a sports bar or sell hockey equipment back home; some even go into television. But no, Vinny hung up the sweater for the last time and said "You know what? I just want to make people feel pretty."

Hey, if that's the case, more power to him.

In a related story, Ted Saskin's Candle Emporium just went public on the Dow.

Draft Profile: Drew Schiestel

Drew Schiestel is a Toronto Blue Jays fan. That is about all we can say about him without crossing into some sketchy territory. It is important to remember at a time like this just how young these draft picks are, and with that youthful attitude comes an empty understanding of the spotlight.

There are millions of teenagers that have Facebook or Myspace pages, and very few of them realize what is being put into a public space for people to see. Even a mere blogger can do a Google search and come across intimate details of someone suddenly thrust into the spotlight. And so while we came to find out more about the 6'1" center from Hamilton, we also respect his and his friends' privacy.

Drew Schistel is the 59th pick overall. He really, really wants Rage Against the Machine to tour again, and is very proud to reside in Hamilton. In one group he is classified as a "Power Play QB/Faceoff Specialist," which is something we all can appreciate. There are a ton of action shots of him on ice, and from those I'm happy to report that he is not afraid to crash the net.

On a completely unrelated note, there is a group shot of him at Ralph Wilson Stadium watching a Bills game. That is just plain exciting to me. If anyone can get a grip on what sports mean to this area, a Bills fan from Canada is as close as you can get.

Drew Schiestel isn't afraid to have a good time. Neither are his friends. That is all that has to be said. But no matter what that may make him in your mind, he's still a good hockey player. One group that stood out to me was "Brothers that are just living the dream." Yeah, I think I can live with this kid on my team. The game means something to him, just like it does to all of us.

Drew Schiestel: Man of Mystery.

Scripted work

This just in: Anyone who watches professional wrestling is an idiot. Anyone who takes steroids is worse.

Offensive statement? Absolutely, but after this story surfaced, I could care less.

In case you don't feel like reading, pro wrestler Chris Benoit allegedly killed his wife on Friday, his 7-year-old son on Saturday, and himself on Sunday.

Now, it is not my intention to make light of this story. This story is sick and twisted. Anyone who commits this kind of crime is mentally ill, but I really feel as if this story may have an impact on the sports world.

I do not consider pro wrestling a sport, nor have I ever. Anything with a script is theater, not an athletic event. However, in an era where steroids have become prevalent in the sporting world, Benoit's antics, combined with the deaths of Guerrerro, Hennig, and Smith, should lead to harsher steroid penalties and a rise is common sense in the world of athletics. All four of these men dabbled in steroids, to say the absolute least, and it is widely believed that they paid the ultimate price for it. Steroids aren't safe. Everyone knows it, including the athletes that use them. But if a fit of 'roid rage can play a part in a double murder-suicide, maybe players will look at taking steroids with more skepticism, fearing the worst.

Benoit obviously didn't think there was anything wrong with taking them. Hell, he even gave them to his son. Look where he ended up.

Do I think that this story will reverse the trend of steroid use? Absolutely. Do I think this story may cause a few people to rethink taking them? Sure, and well, that's a start as far as I'm concerned.

Now to back up my original statement of pro wrestling fans being morons, you need to read nothing more than the kicker of the posted ESPN article. It read as follows:

Monday's show was supposed to be a memorial service for WWE owner Vince McMahon. In a storyline concocted by the WWE, McMahon was supposedly "assassinated" in a limousine explosion two weeks earlier. McMahon appeared at the beginning of Monday's telecast and acknowledged the bombing was made up.

The McMahon storyline has been dropped.

After reading a story on a double murder-suicide, you would think that you would have built up a tolerance and it would take something extraordinary to put you at a loss of words. Well, thanks to the WWE and Vince McMahon, they did. I honestly don't know what to say, or if I even have to say anything for that matter. You faked the death of your owner for a storyline? Really? Reeaaalllyyyy? If the WWE is so desperate for media attention and ratings that it has to fake a death of one of it's only known figures, it should be canceled immediately. Quit while you are far, far behind. Despicable.

Furthermore, the WWE aired a three-hour tribute to Benoit before knowing the facts of the case. Classy move guys. Any twelve-year-old could have told you that it would have been wise to wait for more details, especially when it was being investigated as a homicide from the start.

In closing, my heart goes out to the family of the wife and child. Truly a tragic event.

Draft Profile: Bradley Eidsness

Sometimes you have to question authority to truly feel alive. Most of the time you end up in prison or, like Pacman Jones, a laughingstock.

The point is this: sometimes it's just better to fly under the radar. If that is the case, then Sabres' prospect Bradley Eidsness is an amazing find for us. The 5'11" goaltender from Alberta (139th overall) not only has the cleanest facebook profile I've ever seen, but may be even more media ready than Sid the Kid was coming in.

Seriously, this kid has nothing offensive at all on his page. The worst thing I can say about him is that he frequently uses words such as "stoked", "excited", and "massive." His biggest beef is with Leukemia, and he means business. One of his three groups threatens to beat it up in honor of a friend, which we in the Roost are totally for. The other two groups are as follows: "Okotoks Oilers" (his AJHL team) and "Weekend Warriors." (and he ain't talkin' about the army...)

What can be learned from his profile starts and ends at his groups, however. Not only does he not have any interests, music, or quotes, but he also has a very small selection of pictures to browse. Based on his profile picture, I'd say he's a butterfly goaltender, although that won't surprise anyone born after 1985.

Screw it, I'm making up his interests. He's a lifelong friend of Shia LaBeouf, sleeps in a coffin, and secretly trains legions of cats how to drive a stick shift. He enjoys 1% milk and has an extensive cap gun collection.

Bradley is a die hard fan of the New Zealand All Blacks Rugby Team, and before each game he performs their traditional haka on ice. Barefoot. He's also known to write free form poetry about skunks, Carrie Fisher, and the endocrine gland.

Okay, so maybe Bradley Eidsness isn't that awesome, but he does look like a good kid. Plus his high school graduation gown looks strikingly similar to those God awful Canucks jerseys from 78-85.

I don't know about you, but seeing that makes me thing of one thing: VICTORY!!!

Draft Profile: Paul Byron

Everyone is excited about the NHL Draft. Heck, even Bill Simmons decided it was a good idea to keep a running diary of it.

That being said, we at the Goose's Roost felt we should try to get an in depth look at the Sabres' draft picks this year. Having no press pass, and lacking the means necessary to travel to see these tikes at home, we got as close to a teenager as possible without leaving the comfort of home: their Facebook profiles.

We have been able to find 4 of the 8 players from the Sabres draft class, and will profile them over the next two days. First up is the biggest question mark of Darcy's work from Saturday, 5'8" Center Paul Byron.(179th overall)

Hailing from Ottawa, Paul shocked us all by proudly proclaiming he is a Maple Leafs fan. His groups include "I Bleed Blue, Toronto Maple Leafs for Life" and "Chris Neil is the Biggest Pussy in the NHL!" I think he'll step into the system just fine when the time comes with that attitude.

Paul lists himself at 140 lbs, which makes me feel much better because the NHL scouting report puts him at 135. That extra 5 lbs will make it much harder to duct tape him to the wall come rookie season.

His musical interests are lengthy, but list Canadian mainstays such as The Tragicly Hip, Bryan Adams (shudder), and Alexisonfire. He does boast some good warm up music in Queens of the Stone Age and Rage Against the Machine, as well as the usual classics of The Beatles and Hendrix. At least he didn't put "Everything but country."

His television and movie choices are forgettable, with the usual teenager entries of the Simpsons and Wedding Crashers, respectively.

The most telling part of every Facebook profile is the pictures section, which gives us a multitude of on ice shots and some poses. Most telling are some intense rugby shots, and this beauty:

I guess he's been waiting on that growth spurt for most of his life. Oh well, good luck in the Q, Paul.

New York, New York

By Jon

Editor’s Note: This is the first of a two-part series. The first of which chronicles Jon’s (a Yankee’s fan) first trip to the Bronx, while the second will highlight Ryan’s (despicably a Red Sox fan) trip to Boston.

Say what you want about the Yankees. They spend too much, no chemistry, crazy ownership, whatever. As a Yankee fan for the better part of my existence, I’ve heard it all. Say one negative thing about Yankee Stadium, and you have found yourself a sparring partner.

For the first time in my life, I made a pilgrimage to the Bronx; and oh, what a pilgrimage it was.

Before I go any further, I have to make a mention of my lovely girlfriend and her ability to score tickets to the sold-out Subway Series finale that took place last Sunday. I will not, however, make any mention of the one-hour (plus) fight that took place as we were lost in the less-than-safe parts of the Bronx prior to batting practice (whoops).

I have been to my fair share of MLB games, but every game I have gone to has involved either the Pirates or the Blue Jays. Needless to say, this was the first time I had been able to see a marquee match-up live (interleague or not, a game between two NYC-area teams is a marquee match-up), and also the first sellout I had ever attended. I was a bit excited, to say the least.

Whether you have been to a particular stadium/arena once or if you have been there a thousand times, nothing beats the moment where you first lay your eyes upon it while walking towards the entrance. You see the people dressed in your team’s garb, you heart starts to beat a bit faster, you walk faster without realizing it. It’s truly an amazing feeling, and it’s amplified when there is history at a place. We parked in the perfect spot, as we were on the opposite side of a hill, and Yankee Stadium couldn’t be seen until we reached the peak of said hill. As I walked towards the entrance at Yankee Stadium, I gazed upon the legions of cars, fans, street vendors, and merchandise stands and I wondered what it was like during any of the World Series that have been held there. The place was at a fever pitch for a mid-season match-up, I couldn’t even fathom what it would have been like during a WS run. It was truly a sight to be seen.

Anyone who has seen a picture of Yankee Stadium or watched an episode of SNL knows that it is quite plain. The entire way around is basically the same basic off-white stone pattern. I, just like any other hardcore baseball fan, am a sucker for the old stadiums. Prior to Yankee, I have found myself in the area of Fenway Park and Tiger Stadium. I can’t even begin to tell you how beside myself I was just walking around those stadiums for hours on end, not even making my way inside. All of these stadiums have a simplicity to them that has been lost with the construction of new parks. The basic pattern just adds to the mystique, and really puts the focus on the history rather than the aesthetics of the park.

I made my way to the bleacher entrance in the back of the stadium, and I found myself gazing into the aisles as I found my seat, just trying to catch a glimpse of the field that I have seen so many times on TV. We finally descended upon Section 49, my home for the next few hours.

As I sat in my seat at about 6:30 (Gametime- 8:05), I kept reliving some of the great moments that have happened in that stadium that I either watched on TV live or they have become so famous that I have seen the replay a thousand times. I looked to the left field seats and thought “Hey, that’s where Aaron Boone had the only moment of his career that mattered.” I looked towards right center and I saw Tino’s bomb(s) leave the park off of Byung-Hyun Kim. I looked at right and saw a young Jeffrey Maier reach over and steal a home run. I saw Derek Jeter leap into the stands after catching that miraculous foul-pop. There were more than a few times where I couldn’t do anything but shake my head and smile, because I felt like I was there.

The Yanks had just finished up their BP session, and the Mets began to hit. I hung against the bottom railing with a few hundred other people and begged Mets LHP Oliver Perez, who was shagging fly balls, to toss a ball my way. Now, I have been to close to 100 professional baseball games (mostly minor leagues), and never have I caught a ball. Not during BP, not from a batboy, not a foul ball. Nothing. I’m sure you could imagine my excitement as Perez tossed a ball way up in the air in my general vicinity. I got two hands on the ball…….. but unfortunately so did two other men. I struggled for a second, and I’m sure if I kept fighting I could have had it (those who know me know that I’m a pretty big guy, to say the least), but I realized that there may be nothing more pathetic than three grown men fighting for a BP ball thrown by a pitcher that no one will remember in three years. I let go of the ball. As I’ve told myself dozens of times over the years, there’s always next game.

As game time crept closer, I heard a familiar voice that reassured me that I was really at the stadium. Bob Sheppard’s old, deep voice began booming through the stadium, reading advertisements and public service announcements. Of all the recognizable things in the stadium, this one struck the biggest chord with me. Any home Yanks game I have watched since I was born, I have heard that voice. The thing is, he doesn’t have the most, shall we say, “attractive” voice. If you see a picture of him, you may think he is a ghost. But any Yankees fan knows that it will be a sad day in the Bronx when Sheppard finally hangs up the mike.

Gametime finally came, and the game flew by. No, it wasn’t a very good game. No, it didn’t flow well and it was three hours in length, but as far as I was concerned, that game was over in the blink of an eye. I was awestruck throughout the whole thing, and before I knew it, we were in the car going home.

Nearly one week later, I returned to Yankee Stadium. The Yanks offer tours for the price of 15 dollars. Upon completing the tour, I would have paid three times that. We started in monument park. For someone who is a sucker for history, I was in heaven. Like the nerd that I am, I imitated Roger Clemens and David Wells and wiped a bit of sweat from my brow and put it on the Babe’s monument. We then moved to the dugout, and I posed for the token photo-op. We hit up the clubhouse, and the press box. I couldn’t have been more pleased, and if I hadn’t taken the tour before the stadium closed (ETA on new Yankee Stadium: 2009), I can honestly say that I would live my life with a bit of regret.

As I circled the stadium before we took our tour, I looked at one of those plain stone walls, and I said something to the effect of, “Look at her, isn’t she gorgeous?”

The person I was with responded, “It’s just a wall.”

No, it isn’t just a wall. It’s Yankee Stadium.

Easy, Tiger.

Wow. Just when you think football has finally slid off the summer radar, Jon Kitna goes and kicks himself in the head.

Listen. I'm completely okay with people having high expectations, but bear with me for a moment. Credibility is necessary when you do these things. When Messier said he was going to win a cup with the Rangers, he had kissed the trophy before. When Babe Ruth allegedly called his shot, he had already eaten the entire concession stand behind first base. Whether he was calling for a home run or just waiving down the cotton candy man is irreverent, the legend stands.

Jon Kitna is about three steps above Cade McNown at this point. Meaning he's older, has been sacked more, and isn't living in a box somewhere. He's a poor man's Matt Hasselbeck. Better yet, he's Tim Hasselbeck.

This is a guy who has three more touchdowns than interceptions in his career, and a completion percentage hovering just under 60%. Excuse me if I don't wholeheartedly believe you, Mr. Kitna, but your QB rating tells me you barely know what you are doing out there, let alone how the entire team will perform.

Hear me out, buddy. I know you have confidence in Calvin Johnson, and that's cute, really. However, calling yourselves the next New Orleans Saints is a bit of a stretch. Drew Brees is offended, and Heath Miller is NOT Marques Colston.

Everybody wants to think their team is playoff bound, but sometimes it just isn't the case. Heck, there are some pretty high expectations for this Bills team this year, and I personally have no idea if they can even finish 8-8. That's parody, Mr. Kitna. While a bad team can get very good very fast, you can also hover around mediocrity for a long time. The Lions didn't even hover last year, they Hindenburged their way to a fiery resting place on the grassy knolls of suckitude.

Remember Jon, you were signed by Matt Millen. Good luck climbing out of the cellar with that hovering overhead.

The Storm Before The Draft

I've been told I'm crazy for being excited about the draft.

But since when has being sane helped me as a sports fan? There are actually a few things I love about the NHL Draft that you can't get in other sports. For example, in what other league is it a good idea to brush up on regional dialects before you even scout players?

But aside from player names this year's draft is especially intriguing. With regards to aesthetics, this will be the first chance to see what teams have done with RBK's new sweater. Boston has already revealed theirs (see below) and the Caps have given us a peak of their redesign, but this will be a nice chance to see it on something other than a foam body.

The draft is also unique in regards to it being more so about trades than anything else. With the exceptions of the first round, most players won't see any NHL action for at least a year. That means that for most teams the draft is less about players like Jordan Staal and more about blockbuster trades.

At the time of this posting, Tomas Vokoun, Vesa Toskala, Mark Bell, and Adrian Aucoin all have new homes. Who knows where some star players will land by night's end. Even Maxim Afinogenov has been in some trade rumors over the past few weeks. By Sunday night we may be talking about some major roster moves by the Sabres that most casual fans would have never expected.

Finally, if there is any reason to watch the draft, it may lie in Pat Kane, the Buffalo native that has the chance to go #1 overall to the Blackhawks.

''I can remember in my basement kind of announcing myself getting drafted No. 1. It was to the Buffalo Sabres, but wherever I go, it would be unbelievable to go No. 1.'' -Pat Kane

If a quote like that doesn't make you root for him then you've never been a little kid. Which is impossible.

Everything Plain Can Be Lovely

More proof that this off season will be one of the most interesting in recent history: big news out of Boston.

No, not this, that's just another head coach.

Now that's more like it.

Uniforms are seen as very important in the Goose's Roost, especially when we will see the Hub eight times a year. Personally, I love the new look. It may just be the Bobby Orr card sitting three feet away, but something about the old "B" and matching bear makes me smile. (A nice history of the Bruins logo can be found here.)

The other good sign this brings is a determined effort not to turn the league's uniforms into glorified Rollerball getups.

The Bruins coming out first with a retro look using the new RBK jerseys means that not every team needs to go all sluggaro on us. It's been almost a year now, and while the uniform itself has grown on me, the logo has not. The ability to keep a classic look like Detriot or New York's unchanged will keep most hockey fans from committing murderous acts, while more free-wheeling teams can, um, let their imaginations run wild.

I know that no matter what we say, teams will do what they want with their uniforms. My only request is that the other 29 teams don't get trigger happy and tweak for the sake of tweaking. Some jerseys really do look solid as they stand.

You know what, screw it. Just don't turn these teams into members of the Lollypop Guild and I can deal.

When You Make it Rain, it Pours

By Rich


Mr. Jones, the men in blue would like to have a word with you. Again. Oh, wait. My mistake, I meant to link you here. Sorry, but you know how it is sometimes...when you hear "Pacman," "strip club," "gunfight," and "police," it all kind of has a tendency to blend together.

To be completely honest, the whole Pacman saga is just entertaining as hell to me. Obviously I don't mean to trivialize the awful things he has "allegedly" been involved in, but it's at the point right now where each successive incident is more rediculous than the last. At this rate, I'm expecting to turn on the news sometime in late July and see Pacman, Mo Clarett, Stephen Jackson and Mike Vick holed up in a Manhattan bank with 25 hostages, demanding a private jet to the Caymans. Actually, is there any way I could arrange for exclusive filming rights to that type of incident? Any Given Sunday meets Dog Day Afternoon...hmm. Interesting. I'd have to cast Roger Goodell as the embattled police negotiator with the failing marriage who's in way over his head, and maybe Marty Biron as the spunky hostage who just won't shut up...


Sorry, that tangent got a little out of hand. I'd just like to point out, by the way, that the Titans needed a DB in the 2005 draft, when they held the 6th overall pick. A lot of people had Miami corner Antrel Rolle rated as the top defensive back on the board, but the Titans passed on him. Why, you may ask? Well, they liked Pacman's return ability. That, and the fact that they didn't want to take a UM player because the organization felt that Canes had too much potential for "character issues." So instead they took Pacman Jones. Way to do your homework on that one, guys. Granted, Rolle has been in and out of the lineup in Arizona with injuries during his first two seasons, but he's been a solid citizen. The Titans? They get Pacman being Pacman, which is sort of like "Manny Being Manny," but with more strippers. And gunfire. And the occasional 79-in-a-55 ticket thrown in for variety.

That's that "U" Karma.

It's Not Exactly Crossing the Rubicon...

By Ryan


No one in here in the Roost will be claiming "the die is cast" but any news is good news at this point.

Issuing qualifying offers for five players is important but in the grand scheme of things only shows a progression towards the most significant day in recent Sabres history: July 1st.

Briere and Drury are the two most important players on this team, and there is still a chance we will have neither come September. So with this in mind, any piece of news about this team becomes that much more important. I know every time my homepage loads I tense up when scrolling over the NHL news.

The good news is that today it showed progress and not rumors of LA or God knows where. Next time I may not be so lucky.

10 days, folks.

A Brief Aside

By Ryan


Melt.

There are at least ten different definitions for the word. Subway has one definition. Physicists will have another. My definition equates to something entirely different, yet I'm sure some of you have the same one as me.

Melt is what makes ice so amazing, and what keeps blades doing their job. Sure, the metaphorical value of ice skating is there, but anyone who personally knows the feeling of gliding understands the emotional value is much more important. It truly is another world out there, and in that world the realities of life seem to mean less.

Here's the thing about hockey that makes it so unique: it's one of the only sports that cannot just be played anywhere. The ice surface is one of those rare things that makes the sport so obstinate, and yet so lovable. Sometimes I feel just the ice itself is what seperates hockey from the other "big" sports: it is hard for the ordinary sports fan to get interested, but those that are become fully involved in it.

My point is this: while everyone lounges in the summer heat, I miss the cool feel of the ice. I miss the freedom of that first stride on the rink, and the danger the surface brings. I miss the feel of a crisp pass along the blue line, and the satisfaction of hitting someone in stride. Most of all, I miss the cold feeling in my lungs, that deep chill while my entire body emits excess heat. On ice there is no sweat that comes without work, no heat created without effort.

It's a feeling that cannot be replicated, and one that I miss dearly once the summer comes. Hours of tennis cannot give me the satisfaction a hard skate can bring. The same can be said for a run around the bases, and an 8 yard out. Even the grind of street hockey cannot recreate the distinct smell of hockey. The dirty smell of warm, wet gloves has been replaced by asphault dust and humidity, and only leaves me wanting winter once again.

The good news is that hockey is always in season here, and there are some important going ons in the NHL and abroad. We promise to cover those offseason moves in depth and very soon; but I felt the need to tell you that hockey is truly missed in these parts. If you are still reading this, you may very well feel the same.

The Goose Father

By Ryan


My dad does "something with computers." That’s his occupation, and even now I still can’t quite pin down just what he does for a living. Of course, being his son makes him a bit more than "employee" to me, and so occupations are much less important when he comes to mind.

Sports also come to mind with my father. As with most sons, my father did all the things he should have while raising me. Learning to throw a football, hitting, and wrists shots all came from his teaching. But what I remember most about him when I think of sports are the other things he did. It wasn’t just playing sports with him, and I think that has made all the difference with me. Sure, he taught me how to bat switch; something that will make me an invaluable member of a slow pitch softball team someday, but his lessons were about much more than swing mechanics.

You see, my dad isn’t one of "those dads." He has never been a die hard fan of any team I have been a part of. There were never impromptu bullpen sessions at dawn to hone my fastball, and he has never verbally attacked a referee for my sake. In fact, he has called strike three against me many times in my little league career.

What he has given me is something much more than any of that could ever give me. I was never destined to play professionally, but through his teaching I was destined to be a sports fan forever. My dad is a Buffalonian through and through, and he has taught me how to survive in the world of Buffalo sports.

But more than that, he has taught me to love sports. The difference is right in that statement. Following sports has never been a casual thing in my house. Every game, every play, my father has been teaching me about life through box scores and highlights. When I think of my father, I remember the stories he has told me. Being stuck in traffic on the way to the first game in Rich Stadium. Listening to Pirates games on the radio while camping. My father never told me heroic stories of his athletic triumph, but Jack Kemp and Jim Kelly sure do ring a bell.

My father is the guy that taught me how to hate the Yankees, what intentional grounding is, and why the French Connection are so important. He’s the guy that dragged me to Rich Stadium in the freezing cold, stuffing heat packs in my boots. And while now he doesn’t want to go to games after mid November, he’s the reason I want to be there in the first place.

Over time, the seed he planted inside of me grew, and even he is a bit scared by the monster he created. When study time is arranged around the ‘Cuse game and Monday Night Football, he tends to get a bit concerned. Even so, he’s the man that drove down with me to Raleigh last year for Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals, and the one that has spent a mortgage payment or two on playoff tickets these last 24 months. And while I may be the one easing him into fantasy football, he’s the one that conned me into fantasy NASCAR. (And taunts me over it every week.)
The point is this: no matter what you think or feel about your father, he is a big part of who you are. My dad just happens to be the part you see here, the one staying up late into the night thinking about Dustin Pedrioa’s swing on high fastballs, and the one dreaming of a victory parade in Niagara Square someday.

When I asked him about starting a web site, he handed me a 600 page book on HTML. So far what you see here is all I got. Someday I’ll get around to cracking that open. For now, just call him Father Goose.

Happy Father’s Day everyone.

More Proof Pearl Jam Should Have Won that Antitrust Suit

By Ryan


Today's edition of "Counting Chickens Before Eggs are Laid" is brought to you by Blackberry.

I'm not quite sure what to think about this, but I blame Ticketmaster no matter what. That's right boys, Eddie Vedder and I are on to you. You better be careful when you surcharge those Wiggles on Ice tickets, you never know who's on the other end waiting.

Ahem.

To be honest, the thought of a team in Hamilton is mildly intriguing to say the least. Another team in Canada would be good for the game, and there is obvious interest in the team, but there are still many unanswered questions regarding the regional market share and how teams like Toronto and Buffalo will be offset. The article itself mentioned one buyer's family has four season tickets for the Sabres. What will that family do if a Hamilton franchise becomes a reality?

The economic stability of the Sabres, while solidified in the short term, is very much dependant on its Southern Ontario fan base. It is hard for anyone to say at this point that season ticket holders need to be retained, but five years from now it may be a whole different story. Another team setting up shop right in our backyard will make long trips to Buffalo to see some hockey a lot less enticing.

Again, all of this is hearsay until it actually happens. Personally, it's still a toss up for me. I would love the rivalry, but admit I'm afraid of that very thing.

Handing out the hardware

By Chris

The NHL Awards Show is tonight at 7:30 on Versus (which, like last year, will probably carry the CBC feed that I'll be watching from), so if you've read this far, it means you might care. Thank goodness it's on cable in the US because I think THEN we'd see the lowest primetime ratings ever.

Actual voting was done right after the regualr season, so the playoffs are not taken into account. Here are my picks for the NHL Awards (updated with the guys who actually took the trophies home):

CALDER MEMORIAL TROPHY (outstanding rookie): Paul Stastny, Avalanche (Malkin will probably win, but Stastny carried the Avs late in the season as they made their push for the postseason)
ACTUAL WINNER: MALKIN

FRANK J. SELKE TROPHY (outstanding defensive forward): Jay Pandolfo, Devils
ACTUAL WINNER: ROD BRIND'ANOSE

HART MEMORIAL TROPHY (most valuable player to his team): Sidney Crosby, Penguins
ACTUAL WINNER: CROSBY

JACK ADAMS AWARD (outstanding coach): Lindy Ruff, Sabres (Just being a homer. I want Ruff to win, but if I wouldn't be shocked if the Pens' Michel Therrien won)
ACTUAL WINNER: ALAIN VIGNEAULT

JAMES NORRIS MEMORIAL TROPHY (outstanding defenseman): Scott Niedermayer, Ducks (Lidstrom wins every year, let's just change it up)
ACTUAL REPORTER: LIDSTROM

LADY BYNG MEMORIAL TROPHY (sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct): Joe Sakic, Avalanche
ACTUAL WINNER: PAVEL DATSYUK

VEZINA TROPHY (outstanding goaltender): Roberto Luongo, Canucks (For me, it's a toss-up between Brodeur and Luongo. Both had amazing seasons, but without Luongo, I think the Canucks miss the playoffs again. Since the numbers are pretty comparable so I'll go with the goalie that was most valuable to his team, Luongo).
ACTUAL WINNER: BRODEUR

Right on Schedule

By Ryan


If there was any sure thing about the Sabres offseason, it was who would be in the front office come July 1st. Considering both were "free agents," however, it certianly said a lot about just how uneasy Sabres Nation is going to be over the summer.

The good news is that the first step has been taken. The long rumored return of Lindy Ruff and Darcy Regier has been reported by the two monsters of the media: The Associated Press and Paul Hamilton.

Although not official, I think it's pretty safe to say both are coming back, and in plenty of time to contact a Captain or two before the stroke of midnight on June 30th. Please. 17 days. Do your thing, boys.

UPDATE: Sabres To Hold 9 AM Press Conference Thursday

Buffalo, NY (WGR 550)- The Sabres have announced a Press Conference for Thursday morning at 9.

Team President Larry Quinn, G.M. Darcy Regier and Head Coach Lindy Ruff will all be on hand.

They will discuss the contract status of Regier and Ruff.

WGR 550 will carry the press conference live.

WGR550.Com